


Teal Hair, White Wings

by effervesce_illusion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:35:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervesce_illusion/pseuds/effervesce_illusion
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a veela, which is a common fic but I'm bored, sooo. And basically Harry is obsessed because it's Draco with teal hair, but he was obsessed before the teal hair too. Draco is clueless and it's mostly about Harry and his feelings, but sometimes it switches to what Draco's doing bc I feel like writing it. aND I GaVE TheM PhONes. Also Draco doesn't really consider romantic feelings anymore, which is why he's clueless about Harry's new obsession. Also, in the war, Draco was previously on Harry's side and he was a spy so no one hates Draco in this fic.





	1. Chapter 1

Draco buried under the covers as he hurriedly flipped through an ancient book. He grimaced as he thought of the trek to the library from his room. Lately, his bedroom had been the only place he felt safe… especially after he ‘misidentified’ Potter. His relatives had been, safe to say, shocked, when after they tried to punish him, a ten-meter span of white feathery wing cocooned himself from every blast of magic shot at him. He’d stayed in his room for the most part after that, reading up every bit of his ancestry he could remember.

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly before flipping back to the cover. The title Veela Heritage & A Guide was emblazoned on the black leather binding. He’d searched up everything that had wings, and so far, Veela were the closest match he’d found. Draco decided to do some practical exercises instead, standing up and willing his wings to stretch out, flap, and lift him up to the top of the domed ceiling. Draco had never really appreciated how high his ceiling was… he mostly complained about the cold air that he was left with in the winter. But lately, it hadn’t bothered him, another beautiful aspect of being a… what was it, exactly? Part Veela?

Harry still couldn’t get the image of Draco staring down at him. In his mind, Draco was ever-so-slightly glowing, sharp eyes no longer grey, but molten silver, much taller, and no longer skinny, but slender and definitely fit. Harry was sure that he could see just the faint outline of white wings growing from Draco’s back. Harry was also sure that he had gone crazy.

\--

 

Harry stared in horror at the trio. Draco Malfoy, who was definitely glowing, fit, and with silver eyes, and then Crabbe and Goyle. In terms of danger now, he worried more about Malfoy than the other two combined. Then Malfoy surprised him.

  
Malfoy turned around, took two steps, and seized Ravenclaw’s diadem.

  
“Looking for this, Potter?”

  
“Malfoy, give it!” Harry rolled his eyes, falling back easily into his schoolboy feud. Malfoy just shrugged and tossed it at Harry, expecting him to catch it.

  
“Now, wait here, Malfoy. What’re you doing?” Goyle asked suspiciously.

  
“What do you think, idiot? I’m siding with my last hope.” Malfoy sighed dramatically. He began edging into a protective stance in front of Harry.

  
“You’re a traitor, you know that?” Crabbe accused, wand already out. Malfoy advanced a step, and Harry thought he was in a hallucination. How did he suddenly have white wings?

  
“Like to try me?”

  
“Like to try your ‘last hope’. You can’t evade the Dark Lord if he wins.” Crabbe smirked. Harry was shocked still, but he managed to tap Malfoy’s shoulder from behind.

  
“Um. You have wings?”

  
“Well, as it would seem, I’m a Veela.” Malfoy spat out the words.

  
“ENOUGH TALKING!” Goyle screams. Crabbe seems to share Goyle’s sentiments.

  
“YOU WON’T! Harry, grab a broom.” Malfoy turns to him and tells Harry in an urgent whisper, shoving a broom at Harry at the same time. Suddenly, all Harry knew was that the only thing protecting him from searing heat and jumping flames were Malfoy’s wings, which seemed to have popped up out of nowhere again.

  
“Harry, you need to fly. Get away.” Malfoy tells him. “Stay safe.” Then something flickers in his eyes. “I’m sorry Harry, but you won’t be able to remember this.”  
Harry kicks off, his peripheral vision telling him that Malfoy has used his wings, which are apparently not only 10 meters of feathery decoration but are also functional. And protective.

  
Harry is shocked when a moment later, he can’t remember what part Malfoy played exactly.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re sure that Malfoy had wings?” Hermione asks again on the train.

  
“Yes. There’s something up with him.” Harry told Hermione this several times. Ron and Hermione share a look that asks, Can you believe him?

  
“This isn’t going to be like the obsession you had in sixth-year, is it?” Hermione asks suspiciously.

  
“What? No way. I never had an obsession!” Harry protests. His friends smirk at him, but Harry’s too preoccupied to notice. He feels a burning gaze at his back, and he slowly turns around to face the compartment door. Malfoy’s there, gazing at him. There’s no malice, and oddly, it makes Harry feel warm and safe.

  
“What’re you doing here?” Ron demands. For a second, Malfoy looks as confused as Ron though not as angry.

  
“Weasley.” Malfoy nods in greeting, then turns his searching gaze around the compartment. “No one else was here before?” Malfoy seems a little lost, and Harry wonders what Malfoy's looking for. Honestly, he doesn't know how Malfoy was allowed back into Hogwarts. His curiosity was so great that he was tempted to pick up The Daily Prophet last week when the headline grabbed his attention, but he hates that newspaper and so he's not updated on the Wizarding World anymore.

  
“No, why?” Hermione replies more tactfully than Ron would have. Malfoy looks perplexed, the lost look returning to his eyes. Harry feels sympathy well up inside of him, as well as jealousy for whatever or whomever he's looking for.

  
“I could’ve sworn… Never mind. Whoever it is isn’t here.”

  
“What brought you here?” Hermione is relentless in her pursuit for answers. She smells something which could be interesting in a scholarly way, and give her something new to research. Malfoy withholds some information when he replies, certainly enough for the answer to seem almost Dumbledore-like in terms of vagueness.

  
“I followed the sound. But… it could’ve been a glitch.” Malfoy shrugs and makes to leave, a little uncertainly.

  
“Wait.” Harry says it on impulse. “Why don’t you stay with us?” Malfoy watches him impassively, behind a facade. Inside, Draco wants to smile and say yes, but in reality, he knows that while sitting with the Chosen One is completely amazing and aesthetic, he'd much rather be laughing with his friends again. He's missed laughing with his friends.

  
“And then you can answer whether you really have wings or not.” Ron butts in, snorting. Malfoy looks shocked, and a bit like a cornered animal. Harry winces. He was sure that Malfoy was contemplating sitting with them, which Harry really wanted, but now Ron has gone and dashed that hope to pieces.

  
“No no no, of course, I don’t have wings,” Malfoy says in hasty denial. Then he takes on a contemplative facade. “I wonder though… I thought I’d removed the memories, but then again, I could’ve missed and hit someone else instead…” he trailed off thoughtfully. Hermione and Ron exchanged confused glances, but what he says stirs something inside Harry. He can’t exactly remember, though, and that bothers him.

  
“Will you stay?” Harry asks again. Malfoy shakes his head, sweeping the compartment in one more glance before leaving, robes billowing behind him. Harry realizes that Malfoy hasn't even said goodbye. Ron watches Malfoy leave.

  
“The robes must be a Slytherin thing,” Ron says. “Wish I could do that.”

\--

Harry finds himself watching Malfoy a lot more. His grades are suffering, but his grades have always suffered, so Hermione doesn’t nitpick over his essays and grades. Ron, on the other hand, is a completely different story. Harry would almost feel bad for Ron, but there’s the key word “almost”. Sometimes Ron comes to him to complain, but Harry has his own trouble, most of which contain the words “Draco Malfoy”, and so Harry tells Ron that he signed up for that when he started dating Hermione Granger.

  
One thing Harry notices about Malfoy is that he has a new aura which Harry could swear wasn’t with Malfoy before the war and the wings. But whenever Harry brings up Malfoy and his wings, Hermione and Ron send him sympathetic but unbelieving glances and switch the subject.

  
“Harry, have you finished that essay for Slughorn yet?” Hermione asks him in a maternal manner. Harry nods absentmindedly; currently, his attention is occupied by the other side of the Great Hall, a table decked out in silver and green. Not many people are bitter about the Malfoys; they’ve been welcoming, especially the girls, to Draco. Harry watches Draco as he declines advances gracefully while still conversing with Blaise and Pansy.

  
“Harry!” Ron exclaims. He jabs Harry rather harshly; more than necessary, in Harry’s opinion, but it pulls his attention away from Malfoy. He reluctantly turns his eyes from the Slytherin table.

  
“What?”

  
“Hermione had something to tell you,” Ron says. He returns to shovelling food in his mouth; if there’s one thing that the war has not changed in Ron, it’s his eating habits. Not that the steadiness in that particular habit is good, mind you, but it’s nice to see that some things are permanent. There’s ketchup on Ron’s face as he resurfaces for air, and Hermione glares at him before throwing Ron a napkin with bad grace.

  
“As I was saying,” Hermione says, “I’ve done some research in the library.” That’s another thing that hasn’t changed, which Harry is more grateful for than Ron’s eating habits.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“I’ve found some interesting ancestry.” Hermione pulls out a thick book. Harry shoots a glance at the book, then Hermione, and then Ron, and Hermione gets the message. She tugs the book away from the tornado of food that Ron has left in his wake, in the hope of protecting the book from Ron’s somewhat disgusting spilt food, and continues to speak. “Apparently, the Malfoys do have Veela in them. Maybe that has something to do with the wings you claim you saw?”

  
“Maybe. He was glowing though, and his eyes were silver.” Harry’s held this piece of information back because he’s sure if he tells them, he’ll be committed to a mental institution, but it slipped out. Hermione gives an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes. Honestly, Hermione reflects, being friends with them would be so much easier if only they told her the full story.

  
“That’s normal of a powerful Veela.” She’s struck by another thought, which she instantly voices. “Did you not think about doing any research about Malfoy? Or did you just want to gape at the Silver Trio?”

  
“At the what?” Ron makes a reappearance into their conversation. “Did you say ‘silver trio’?”

  
“Yes, stop being so shocked. You know the significant contributions they made to our side, which helped us win.” Hermione says matter-of-factly. “We’re the Golden Trio, they’re the Silver Trio. That, and the Veela are what’s making all of the girls, and some boys, fall for Draco.” Harry chokes on the bit of toast he just ate. Ron pounds him on the back heartily, not pausing his own eating. This is only a testament to Ron’s love of food. Hermione sends both of them a reproachful glance, and Ron stops slapping Harry’s back with a guilty look.

  
“Well, what about Blaise? He’s handsome too, that should combat Malfoy's Veela.” Ron argues. Harry notices, with shock, that he’s not speaking with food in his mouth.

  
“Because rumour has it that Draco was risking his and his family’s life by spying. He’s supposedly a very strong Occlumens.” Hermione says.

  
“How do you know this?” Harry turns around to fully look at her.

  
“I’m a girl, Harry.” It’s her only explanation as she delicately eats another bite of toast.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco’s never been more thankful for the iPhone he recently purchased. It means that he doesn’t have to run across a quarter of Hogwarts to the bathrooms while fending off roses and chocolates from girls and boys alike but can instead check his hair in the camera. Pansy rolls her eyes when he raises his arm with the phone.

  
“Another selfie for Instagram, Draco?” she asks in a pointed tone. Blaise lets out a deep laugh while Draco ignores both of them.

  
“Yes, because taking a picture right now is the same as checking my hair.”

  
“I didn’t take you shopping for a new iPhone for this,” Pansy says exasperatedly. Draco laughs.

  
“I just needed a better camera that was easy to carry around, Pans,” Draco says. “Come on, Slughorn won’t wait for us.”

  
“He will,” Blaise mutters under his breath. Pansy and Draco both hear him, and they laugh. It’s light-hearted laughter and a sound that Draco’s glad they can still make after the war. Spying was like being in a suffocating shroud of fear; fear of making a single misstep, fear of dying, fear of torture. They couldn’t laugh during the war; Blaise and Pansy and Draco were all too wound up and stressed to laugh. So when they spent time together, it was often filled with tense, electric silence. Draco reflects that they deserve to laugh after all of what they went through.

“It’s the seventh Slytherin gathering this year,” Blaise says, wiggling his eyebrows. Draco looks up from the book he’s been reading, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.

  
“Well, that means we can’t miss it,” Draco replies good-naturedly, despite having holed up in his room for all the other gatherings except the first and fifth.

  
“So, drinks which we’ve managed to sneak in, lots of food, card games, taking out the Xbox which the other houses have no idea we own, Quidditch games, midnight swims with the mermaids, and our signature Truth or Dare.” Blaise smiles cattily.

  
“Who are you after tonight, then?” Draco asks, knowing Blaise’s cattish smile quite well.

  
“This time it’s going to be a little harder since she’s from Gryffindor.”

  
“It can’t be that hard,” Draco says with a laugh.

  
“You should think about getting someone, actually,” Blaise replies thoughtfully. “What about Potter? He’s been staring at you quite often lately. He messed up his potion because he was watching you.” Draco lets out an uncharacteristic chuckle, which he doesn’t mean to let out, but the idea is ridiculous.

  
“You think he likes me? That’s funny. Besides, he’s always been abysmal in Potions. Slughorn was a little disappointed this year.” Just then, Pansy walks in.

  
“Draco, you ready to get some epic photos for Instagram aesthetic?” Pansy asks, already pumped. Potter is forgotten as Draco replies and Blaise gets up to embrace his friend.

  
“Of course.” Draco grins. It’s a full smile, with teeth and a single dimple which he’s rarely ever shown outside his friends.

\--  
The next morning, Hermione has her phone out. Harry gapes at it in surprise.

  
“How did you get it to work in Hogwarts?” he asks. Hermione spares him a disparaging glance before answering.

  
“I didn’t. Pansy did it for me. They invented their own spell to protect their phones. I mean, they also did some adjustments for the phone, like enhancing its photo-taking abilities and such,” Hermione says.

  
“I didn’t know you were on first-name basis with the Silver Trio,” Ron says without malice, just surprise. Hermione smiles.

  
“I’ve made an effort to make friends. Unlike Harry, who’s pining.” Ron guffaws loudly, and Harry makes an effort to shush him in vain. "You never denied it." Ron points out, and Harry rolls his eyes before turning back to Hermione. So he might be pining, but that's normal. It's perfectly fine-- or at least that's what he tells himself.

  
“Well, what were you looking at?”

  
“Instagram,” Hermione answers shortly. Ron peers over Hermione's shoulder, and Harry makes a move to do the same, ignoring Hermione's dirty glare. When Hermione directs said glare to Harry, Harry cowers back and doesn't make a move to watch her phone again.

  
“You have an account?” Harry exclaims. Ron looks lost, not knowing what Instagram is. “Who’s post?”

  
“Draco, Pansy, and Blaise’s.”

  
“Wait, they share an account?”

  
“No, there’s no way that that’s the only account they’d have,” Hermione says with a laugh. “But all of them posted pictures of last night. They’re all different, but they’re all from last night. Draco also dyed the ends of his hair a bright teal because of Truth or Dare, which apparently is a very Slytherin game which all of them go hardcore at, and it’s very photogenic.” Harry almost chokes again, along with Ron. Hermione tsks at them but continues speaking. “They’re actually all very good at taking good pictures of each other. But last night seemed pretty crazy for the Slytherins. Did you notice how empty the table is?”

  
“That’s because most of them are in the hospital wing. They played a drinking game.” Draco says from behind them. Harry snaps around quicker than he’s ever done before, and is greeted by a sharp-looking Draco with ombre hair. Blaise and Pansy are next to him, looking no worse for wear, despite the alcohol they probably downed and the all-nighter they probably pulled.

  
“What game?” Ron asks curiously as Hermione looks vaguely disapproving.

  
“They took a shot for every time one of the fifth-years said a certain Gryffindor’s name. It’ll probably be banned by McGonagall today since most of the Slytherins have alcohol poisoning and are at Madam Pomfrey’s.” Blaise says with a small smirk. Pansy openly laughs.

  
“It was funny to watch. I think at one point when most of us were drunk, we started to talk in French. There was one guy who went around shouting in Lithuanian.” she says. “Oh, hey, is that Draco’s post?” Pansy’s watching Hermione’s phone over Hermione’s shoulder. Harry moves to see it too.

  
It’s Malfoy, riding a Nimbus 2017, in the Quidditch Pitch at night. His lithe form dances across the screen, performing an insane amount of loops and feints, with his newly-dyed hair flying behind him. The next picture, when Hermione scrolls right, is Draco in Three Broomsticks with a butterbeer.

  
“Blaise took that one,” Draco says. Harry jumps slightly, not having felt Draco come behind him to watch. “The next one was the one Pansy took.”

  
“You looked great in it,” Pansy says, and Harry feels that this is an ongoing argument. So Hermione scrolls again to the right, and there’s Draco, half-submerged in water and topless with defined abs, which Harry can’t help but notice. Harry personally thinks that the picture is amazing and could definitely be modelling material. Draco winces when he sees it.

  
“The water was freezing, and the aesthetic wasn’t worth it at all. We could’ve done a nature one, but no, we had to do the Great Lake,” he grumbles. Harry thinks it’s definitely worth it. Blaise starts to laugh, as does Ron, and eventually, Draco. Pansy merely rolls her eyes and tugs the rest of the Silver Trio away to the Slytherin table.

  
“C’mon, we still have to eat breakfast.” Pansy reminds them.

  
“I already ate.” Draco protests with a sly smirk.

  
“Draco, that Ravenclaw girl-- whats her face-- oh wait, Quirke, doesn’t count as eating,” Blaise says. “Otherwise I would’ve already eaten as well.” Ron chokes on his toast, and Harry feels a surge of nausea at the thought of Draco doing it with some random Ravenclaw girl.

  
"I was kidding!" Draco protests. "I need my morning tea, at the very least!" Harry reflects that this side of Draco is extremely cute.

  
“With who?” Hermione asks with piqued interest, while Pansy admonishes Zabini and Malfoy.

  
“You two are absolute wankers. Unless you’d like to skip breakfast?” Pansy asks with raised eyebrows.

  
“Orla Quirke. Fifth-year, I think.” Blaise replies.

  
“Pansy dearest, you’ll have your chance someday,” Malfoy says with a smirk, and then he realizes what Blaise has said. “Oh, is Orla her first name? I had no idea.” He shrugs, as Pansy starts to scold him.

  
“Don’t you ‘Pansy, dearest’ me. Besides, who said I didn’t have… a midnight snack, shall we say?” She grins like a cat who’s got the cream before she strides off. Malfoy bursts out laughing and cards his hand through his hair before grabbing Blaise and leaving the Gryffindors.

  
“Of course she did.” is Draco’s parting comment.

  
“Are they always like this?” Ron asks, disbelieving. "I didn't think they'd be this outright." Hermione grins.

  
“No, they're just like this after parties.” she clarifies, and Harry is glad. He’s not sure he can deal with that jealousy every single day, considering that right now, he wants to hunt down and hurt one particular Ravenclaw. His eyes lock onto Orla Quirke, who’s blatantly staring at Draco with an infatuated look, but her mouth is still moving at what seems like a mile a minute.

\--

Draco looks around for Quirke and then zeroes in on her conversation. He ignores that she’s staring at him; besides, he still needs to eat breakfast.

  
“And then I found Draco!” he hears her say, with entirely too much delight in her voice. He growls low in his throat; he’s pretty sure he never let her call him by his first name. “Then we talked for a little bit and, well, that’s why I disappeared.” Wow, the subtleness of that! Draco rolls his eyes.

  
“Ooh, how was he?” One of her friends asks. Draco notices that he’s a boy. He’s not quite sure of the boy’s name, but Draco notes down his face for a new target.

  
“Amazing,” Quirke says dreamily. Draco’s a little bit worried now because anyone that can speak about amazing sex dreamily is either someone with great self-control or just a little off in the head.

  
Sadly, he can’t say the same for her. It was quite obvious that Quirke was not his mate. Draco tries to recall what Blaise said her first name was, and he only recalls it ten minutes afterwards, on the way to Charms.

  
“Blaise, do you know Quirke’s friend? The guy one.” Draco says.

  
“You’ve had sex with Quirke and you’re still not calling her by her first name?” Pansy asks, amused. Draco flips her the finger before tousling his hair again. It's a bad habit he's picked up, probably from hanging out quite a lot in Muggle public schools. He'd made a trip back to America for a little while and visited... what was it? He'd visited a high school for a debate summer camp or something, and he must've picked it up there.

  
“Nope,” he answers casually. “She’s not it.”

  
“I think his name is Stewart. Stewart Ackerley.” Blaise answers Draco's question, finally.

  
“How do you even know all this?” Pansy asks him suspiciously. Blaise grins like the Chesire Cat before replying.

  
“Well, I heard Flitwick call him out once in the Great Hall, and I just remembered it. He looks cute, doesn’t he?” Blaise says, surreptitiously glancing at Draco.

  
“No, he’s really not all that. I mean, he looks nice, but… well, you never know. I’m going to try anyway, you know that.” Draco smiles innocently, in contrast with his words. Because apparently, to find your Veela mate, you'd have to have sex with them first. A huge inconvenience, if you asked Draco. Couldn't you just feel a tug towards them or something? Pansy rolls her eyes.

  
“Of course you will. Why does it have to be so organized though? First, you went through all of Slytherin, now you’re halfway through Ravenclaw, and then you’re planning to move on to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. It’s not even been three full months yet.” Pansy lets out a laugh at the end. Draco smirks.

  
“I move quickly, and there’s always been a line, even before the Veela.”

  
“What if they’re not in Hogwarts?” Blaise says, his voice muffled as he pops a Fizzing Whizbee in his mouth.

  
“Well, they could be.” Pansy counters, shooting a worried look at Draco. “If not, then every midnight rendezvous was pointless.”

  
“Who said it was at midnight?” Draco smirks, before blowing a kiss and sprinting away.

  
“Oh no. He just saw Ackerly, didn’t he?” Pansy questions. Blaise responds with a grim nod.


	4. Chapter Four

It’s been a week, and Harry has heard from Hermione that Draco has managed to fuck most of Ravenclaw and is working on Hufflepuff. He knows Draco is on Hufflepuff because Draco came to class late with Hannah Abbot, who is pink-faced and with mussed hair. And no, Harry’s not jealous, and if he is, it’s because he doesn’t get as much attention as Draco does… or something.

  
“Harry, mate, stop gaping at them like a fish,” Ron says under his breath. He moves Harry’s head back to focus on the teacher. “Oh Merlin, you aren’t jealous of him, are you? Don’t tell me you like Abbot of all people.” Then he rushes to correct himself, like a proper gentleman. “Not that I have anything against her, mind. She’s nice. If you like her, mate, I’m all for it. Just… I didn’t think you’d like Abbot. I just… I mean, you’re bi, but don’t you lean more towards men?”

  
“Wha-” The idea was so unexpected to Harry that he couldn’t yet answer Ron’s question. “Yeah, I told you that, didn’t I? And no, I don’t like Hannah. Or Draco.” Harry reflects that mentioning Draco probably wasn’t the smartest move, but when has he ever regulated his mouth?

  
“You’re not jealous, are you?” Ron says. “Because you know, if you tried, you could get more girls than him.” Harry sputters before replying.

  
“What do you mean?” Harry asks as he wrestles with the stupid Devil’s Snare. Professor Sprout outlawed killing the idiot plants, so now he has to stuff the Devil’s Snare into plastic baggies. He didn’t even know that the Wizarding World knew about plastic or Ziploc bags. Ron is working on his with an equal amount of disgust and fervour, while Hermione is calmly pushing hers into the bag. Harry watches Hermione for a little while, and at the same time tries his best to fend off the reaching tendrils of the plant. “Hey, Hermione. How are you doing that?”

  
“I learned this trick from Draco, actually. It’s like those Monster books we had to get for Hagrid’s class. You just tickle it, and it calms down.” Hermione smiles softly at her plant. Ron gapes at Hermione like she’s gone mad but still tries the trick. Hermione sees Ron struggling and promptly reaches over to stroke the plant while smiling adorably at Ron. He blushes and manages to gather his wits fast enough to kiss the top of Hermione’s head.

  
“I love you, did you know that?” Ron says with a hint of relief. Harry laughs as he copies Hermione’s technique, watching his friend’s antics with equal amounts amusement and jealousy. Harry’s never realized that he’s jealous of their relationship. Ginny and he never quite worked out, since Ginny realized she liked Luna for perhaps five years, and Harry realized that Ginny was Ron’s sister, and therefore essentially his sister. Um, also, his own feelings kind of dictated Ginny as his sister, not a romantic interest. So his romantic life is lacking a little, and watching Hermione and Ron together, Harry finally notices that he’s craving something like that. For a second, he feels like Malfoy is right next to him, acting the way Hermione does to Ron, and he nearly drops his bag of Devil’s Snare. Surprise! He thinks to himself. You love Malfoy now, no way around it.

  
For someone who just recently realized he swung for both teams, he was proud that he was able to admit his attraction. And on his former nemesis, no less.

After this development, he can’t quite make eye contact with Malfoy. He knows that Draco’s been watching him like a hawk, and for what reason, he has no idea. Harry is on edge, and he would be lying to himself if he didn’t say that while he’s brushing off this crush as nothing, he is also simultaneously screaming inside. But then again, what young adult isn’t screaming inside? And hasn’t he been screaming inside ever since the ripe old age of eleven?

  
Oh, shit. Harry suddenly thinks, What if he knows about my crush on him? He quickly distinguishes this thought with the reminder that he hasn’t even told Hermione and Ron about this new development on Draco Malfoy yet. Wait, can Veela read minds? This other disturbing thought pops up, and he shudders. Harry gets random thoughts like these, most often in the library, but considering that Veela are magical creatures, there’s a chance. And Harry’s always sucked at Occlumency. Harry runs over to Hermione. She’s only two tables away, and walking over would work too, but Harry is panicked.

  
“Hermy, can Veela read minds?” Harry asks with desperation in his eyes. Hermione looks up with a scowl.

  
“Harry, you are not Grawp, you can’t call me that. If you want me to answer your question without you having to do hours upon hours of research at the library, do not call me that atrocious nickname.” Hermione says, tearing her attention away from her animated debate on goblin policy with Pansy.

  
“Short answer, Potter, yes.” Pansy cuts in, stopping Hermione mid-rant. “Why? Did you suddenly develop a crush on Draco?” Pansy’s joking, but there’s the tiniest flash of a glint in her eyes that Harry barely catches. If it’s possible, Harry is even more on the edge of his figurative seat.

  
“What? Of course not; I was just wondering. I was planning to do a friendly prank war, but that’s not happening now.” he lies smoothly, almost thinking that he got away with it until he catches sight of both the girls’ faces. Hermione’s has a permanent design of ‘really? Are you sure?’, whereas Pansy only betrayed a glimpse of a sceptical expression before closing up.

  
“You’re not creative enough to do a prank war, Harry. Maybe a baking competition, but prank wars aren’t in your league yet.” Hermione points out, her eyes boring into him.

  
“And you are? Also, I would totally beat you in a baking competition.” he retorts, trying to change the subject.

  
“Of course she’s creative enough, she’s an honorary Slytherin as of now. And yeah, anyone could beat Hermione’s baking, but no one can beat Draco’s. But back on topic. You have a crush on Draco!” Pansy grins a Chesire Cat smile. Harry’s torn between Hermione’s honorary Slytherin title and vehemently denying his crush. He settles for both.

  
“What do you mean? I was almost sorted into Slytherin!” he protests. “And I do not.” He registers the slightly shocked expression from Pansy, which immediately fades back into her customary nonchalant facade, and he feels immense satisfaction. Until Draco comes in.

  
“Do not what?” Draco asks, walking in and plopping down in a chair which pulls out for him just as he sits down. Harry watches in fascination as he runs a hand through his teal hair. Harry notices that Draco stopped gelling it; now it falls in what Harry imagines to be silky locks, framing Draco’s face rather nicely.

  
“Oh, we were just talking about the newest rumour on how Harry apparently runs an underground drug cartel in London,” Hermione says, improvising on the spot. Draco snorts.

  
“Nice one, you’re getting better. But honestly, with the stuff printing in the news these days, it could very well be a news story.” Draco lets out a small laugh. “I’m a wonderful teacher. To think that just a couple of months ago you refused to lie at all! In general, you were pretty terrible at lying. Surprising, considering what the Golden Trio got up to. Polyjuice Potion in Second Year, and you didn’t give it away.”

  
“Excuse you, I am a very good liar. It’s just that you have a freaky mind-reading power!” Hermione shoots back.

  
“No, I just have a natural ability for detecting lies. Like, also in Second Year, I knew that Crabbe and Goyle were actually Harry and Ron. Remnants of Veela still show up, even when you haven’t reached Inheritance, you know.” Draco smirks, pushing his chair back to the back two legs, arm reaching over teal hair to grab a book from the library shelves behind him. Harry’s breath hitches as he notices that Draco’s legs are not only very well toned, no doubt from Quidditch, but also spread apart. “But, what were you really talking about?”

  
“Oh, uh, nothing,” Harry says. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

  
“Don’t think about what?” Draco says. Harry mentally groans; now Draco is even more on his trail because of curiosity.

  
“Draco, sweetie, we were making a list of people that could possibly have a crush on you.” Pansy takes over.

  
“Mmm? You’ve never had problems hiding it from me before. Besides, my plan involves everyone.” Draco’s eyes narrow, then he registers that Harry is there.

“Wait…”

  
“Yes, Harry knows about your Veela Inheritance. What were you going to say?” Pansy asks. Harry’s surprised by how quickly Pansy can read Draco.

  
“Alright. I was going to comment further on your obvious half-truth. Perhaps what you said was true, but there’s something else, isn’t there?”

  
“He’s right, his lie-detecting abilities happen to also cover half-truths. I’m done, my Slytherin lying abilities are no good against his Veela instinct. Good luck guys.” Pansy says before pushing back her chair and leaving the library. Draco turns his face to Hermione, and it morphs into a pleading expression, complete with puppy-dog eyes, which Harry has never thought Draco capable of. Draco’s mouth turns down in a pout, and Hermione takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, sighs, and reopens her eyes.

  
“Sorry, I had to brace myself for the persuasive patented sad Draco Malfoy face.” she deadpans.

  
“Please, Hermy?” Draco says with a pout that should probably be illegal.

  
“Ugh, your face is actually killing me,” Hermione says, covering her eyes. “I can’t, I’m sorry Harry.”

  
“Wait, wait, wait. Draco gets to call you Hermy, but I don’t?” Harry asks indignantly. Draco’s smirk breaks through his “sad face”.

  
“Harry, shut up. I might actually tell him because of what you just said,” Hermione threatens. Draco’s eyes light up.

  
“So this is something that could possibly be embarrassing, involving Potter and maybe me? Probably me because Potter doesn’t want me to know?” he summarizes. Harry groans and faceplants on the table.

  
“I… that is accurate,” Hermione says. “Oh, look at the time! I have to go to the… the dorms to learn how to apply mascara!” Hermione makes her escape, but not before Draco calls out after Hermione.

  
“Mia, you’re already wearing mascara,” Draco points out. Hermione turns around to shrug.

  
“Improve your skills every day, am I right?” she says with a sheepish smile. Draco rolls his eyes.  
“You owe me an explanation later.” he raises an eyebrow as Hermione more or less sprints out of the library. Then he turns his attention to Harry.  
“I haven’t used the full extent of my powers yet. I could look through all of your recent memories unless you want to tell me first?” Both eyebrows are raised and Harry notices just how silvery the eyes beneath the eyebrows are. He doesn’t detect the faint smirk pulling on the edges of Draco’s lips.

  
“Why are you so concerned?” Harry says, trying to deflect the question.

  
“I’m assuming it involves me, and I like to know when something goes on that concerns me. Forgive me, but the last time I didn’t, I ended up being pulled into the Second Wizarding War and forced to put my life in danger multiple times, defying my family and every single law put up for me,” Draco pointed out.

  
“I promise you it’s not bad, and it won’t ruin your reputation or health,” Harry promises before making his own escape, but not before noticing that he’s already whipped for Draco. The thought scares him.

Draco watches Harry’s retreating figure, picking up “Oh god I’m already whipped for him. That’s not good.” And in the background, Draco can hear faint screaming, which he hears from practically every Gryffindor except Hermione.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is going to take a while and they probably won't get together for a while and there'll probably be some useless chapters
> 
> EDIT: Nevermind even I got tired of Harry denying his feelings. but I don't think Draco will know for a while...


End file.
